


He Dreamt He Was a Hero

by tricia_16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2018 Louden Swain FanFic/FanArt Challenge, Angst, Dean's Stuck in Michael's Head, M/M, Mutual Pining, Open ended, Pining, Post-Season/Series 13, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: Dean is still missing, still under the control of Michael, and the only way Sam and Castiel have managed to have contact with him is through Dean's dreams. Unfortunately, dreams don't always make a lot of sense and Castiel can never navigate what's happening fast enough to make a difference.Until he does, and everything is suddenly disturbingly clear...Based on the song Angela byLouden Swain.





	He Dreamt He Was a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> **Anything bold is a lyric straight from the song Angela by Louden Swain.**
> 
> I literally cannot thank Mariah enough for working with me to create art for this story. It isn't an easy feat to draw a dream, but I think she absolutely nailed it. Please go follow her on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WendyStonegood), [ Tumblr,](https://beesandbroomsticks.tumblr.com) or [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingFrancis/profile) to tell her how awesome she is!

“Hey Cas, are you okay?” Sam asks. His voice is soft as he rests a hand upon Castiel’s shoulder. It’s gesture of comfort he doesn’t want any part of.

Castiel can’t bring himself to look up at his friend, and instead, he resolutely stares down at the bottle of beer cupped in his hands. He’s seen nothing but pain and loneliness on the younger Winchester’s face since the horrible day Dean said yes to Michael. The longer Dean’s been gone, the more pain Sam openly displays, and Castiel can barely stand to look at him anymore.

He can’t handle more pain right now.

For years - almost a decade now - there has rarely been anything more important to him than Dean. He rebelled, he fell, he killed his own brothers and sisters. All for Dean. And feeling like this again reminds him of last summer, when Sam and Dean were both locked up and there was nothing he and Mary could do to get them back. He had never felt so useless in his entire existence. What was the point of being an angel when he couldn’t even locate them? Now, knowing Dean’s trapped inside his own body while the archangel Michael forces him to do who knows what, he feels even worse.

He swallows down the despair his thoughts have brought to his attention yet again, and answers Sam.

“No. I’m not okay. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I talked to Rowena. If you want, there’s a potion she can make so you don’t have to see them anymore,” Sam says hesitantly.

“No,” Castiel growls immediately, breathing heavily through his nostrils as he tries to get some control over his sudden mood swing. Sam wisely removes his hand from Castiel’s shoulder.

“Nobody would blame you if you needed a break, Cas, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

“Save your breath,” he replies, his shoulders still heaving with the effort behind not taking his anger out on Sam _again_. “I won’t leave him.”

“You said you don’t even know if it’s really him,” Sam reminds him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says between clenched teeth.

Even if they’re only his own hallucinations, and even if he gets pulled away the moment Dean looks at him, seeing Dean for a moment is better than not seeing him at all. The first time it happened, it had caught him entirely by surprise.

He had taken to spending time in Dean’s room. They all did from time to time, but him more than anybody considering he has eight hours to kill each night while everybody else sleeps. The familiar scent of the man he knew so well was comforting, and nobody seemed to mind or think anything of it when he started spending his nights in there. With no other leads and nowhere else he’d rather be anyway, he’d lie on Dean’s bed and reach out to him in his mind. He’d been doing it every night for weeks and nothing had ever come of it.

But this time, without anything changing on his part, he saw him.

He didn’t look like Michael - he didn’t have his wings, nor did he carry himself any differently than he always did. He was just Dean, _gloriously_ Dean, in his green canvas jacket and jeans fitted tight to his bow legs, which were carrying him down a winding path in a dark but open field. His shoulders were slumped, and it was clear he was **trapped in this foreign land** the same as he was. Dean kept looking back over his shoulder, as if he was **waiting on something - something real?** \- but Castiel could see he was utterly alone.

Castiel could feel his heart swell in his chest and emotion clog his throat just looking at him. After so many nights of trying and failing, there he was. There was Dean. And he looked well! He looked slightly anxious, yes, but he was alive and he didn’t appear to be injured.

He barely had time for relief to register before the **night brought a multitude** of evil creatures to surround Dean. He didn’t understand; one moment Dean was fine and alone on the path, and the very next instant he was _surrounded_. He couldn’t tell what the creatures were from where he was, but Dean was outnumbered and that was enough.

Castiel could **feel the moonlight breeze** in his wings as he dove towards him, **not even thinking about why he’s flying with such ease** for the first time in years. He knew he wasn’t making a sound, and he was nowhere close enough for him to be able to hear Dean, but hear him he did.

“Cas? If you got your ears on I could really use a hand down here.”

His voice rang clear and true in his head. Hearing the familiar way Dean said his name, the timbre of his voice, and the cadence in which he speaks would be enough to bring him to his knees if he were standing. He had never known he could miss anything as much as he missed the sound of Dean’s voice. Motivated beyond anything he’s ever felt, he doubled his speed, flattening his wings against his body and torpedoing towards Dean as fast as he could possibly go. Dean **knew he’d come down** to save him, and pride bloomed as he reached out for him. He was going to scoop him up and fly him away to safety, and he was never letting him out of his sight again.

To feel Dean in his arms again while he flies is a dream he never thought would come to pass, and emotions swirled inside of his chest when Dean looked up and he got his first glimpse of those green eyes for the first time in thirty-seven days.

“Dean,” he sighed.

But just as quickly as Dean was surrounded, there was a flash of panic and sorrow in Dean’s eyes, and he was gone. Just like that. Castiel wasn’t able to pull out of his landing, and instead, he crashed down into the earth, skipping across it like a stone on the water’s surface. When he finally came to stop, he was covered in dirt, he had  **grass in his teeth,** and all he could feel was shame.

Shame on him.

He had Dean within his reach and he couldn’t get to him fast enough.

In a blink, he was back on Dean’s bed, completely clean and without his wings all over again. He remembers the way shame was still crashing over him like waves against a shoreline. He itched to open his wings and take off to the skies once again in search of Dean, but he couldn’t.

Anger flashed through him over the loss of his wings and the majority of his grace all over again. **It seethes;** **it reminds him he’s not free** to search every inch of the earth the way he still desperately wants to in order to locate and rescue Dean from his brother’s clutches, but without his wings _he can’t,_ and he despised the rage almost as much as he despised himself.

* * *

 

Dean snapped back to his own consciousness that day, looking down at his body to see it in the same condition as it was in before his dream.

Was it even a dream?

 _Can_ you dream when you’re only existing in your own head? 

He doesn't know. This whole situation is dumb as fuck. One minute he was in control of Michael and himself with more power racing through his veins than he’s ever felt in his life, and the next, he was doubled over in pain as everything he is and everything he’s ever been was crammed into what feels like a very tiny corner of his own brain.

It’s kind of like when you’re walking the line between sleep and consciousness. You can hear what’s going on around you, you don't really know where you are, and it sorta feels like you’re floating. That’s how it felt to be possessed by Michael. 

That doesn’t mean he didn’t fight, though. He’d yelled in his own head, he’d beaten against the blank walls that trapped him inside, he’d swore a blue streak, but mostly he prayed. He prayed to Jack, to Chuck, to Amara, and even to that red headed angel, Anael. But more than anything, he prayed to Cas. He _knew_ Sam, Jack, and Cas would be trying to find him, but as strong as Jack is, he’s always had a stronger connection with Cas than anybody else.

So now every single moment he has when he can think straight - when he knows who he is and what he’s fighting against - he prays to Cas. He begs for him. Fuck, he misses the feathered weirdo.

He thinks about those stupidly blue eyes and the way they’re almost always all squinty, like even after ten damn years spending time with them, he still has no idea what the hell’s going on most of the time.

He thinks about the heartbreak he saw in them the last time he saw him, right before everything went to shit. He thinks about what he said.

_“_ _Lucifer has Sam! He has Jack! I don’t have a choice!” He can see the pain in Castiel’s eyes before he spins back around to face Michael, but there just isn’t time for that right now._

_After establishing the terms of the deal with Michael, he turns back to face Castiel. He’s gotta make time for this one thing; he doesn’t know if he’ll get another chance._

_“This goes sideways, Cas, you take care of it. You hear me?”_ _  
_

_Castiel’s eyes glitter with unshed tears as his mouth opens and closes like a fish. Dean eats up the space between them by taking a step towards him. “Listen to me, Cas. You know how these dicks with wings are better than anybody. If I can’t hold on, if I can’t win the fight, you talk to Rowena, you get whatever angels are left, and you do whatever you gotta do to gank Michael, even if it kills me. Got it?”_

_“No, Dean. I can’t kill you!” Castiel says, horror and betrayal written all over his face._

_“You have to! You can’t let him destroy the world just to save one guy!”_

_“No,” Castiel says again. “You can’t ask me to do this.”_

_“Cas, I’m beggin’ you, man. You’re all I got right now. I’m counting on you.”_

_“No, Dean. You will fight this, just as you fought The Mark. You are The Righteous Man, and you_ can _beat him. You_ are _strong enough.” He lowers his voice to a whisper and brings his hand up to rest on Dean’s shoulder. Dean feels a tingle run through his very core. “And you won’t be alone. We still have a bond, Dean. If you start to feel lost, like you can’t fight it anymore, you reach for me and I will be there. Anytime.”_

_Dean looks away, unable to stare directly at the depth of feeling he can see inside of his eyes when a part of him knows he’ll never get to act on that now. “I’m not wavin’ the little white flag, okay? But you gotta promise me -”_

_“I will see the end of the earth before I cause you harm, Dean, and I won’t apologize for it.”_

_“Dammit, Cas,” he curses._

_Castiel grips his shoulder so tight he has to fight back a wince, and before he even says the words Dean can see them coming. His eyes are blazing with the same truth he saw that day Ramiel’s poison was eating him alive._

_Castiel’s voice comes out in a harsh whisper, “I love you, Dean.”_

_There’s no_ I love all of you _to follow this one up, and in a stunning moment of clarity prompted by knowing that he’s probably going to be worn by an angel for the rest of eternity, he pulls Castiel into a bone crunching hug and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He breathes in that fresh, airy angel smell for what he’s sure is gonna be the last time, and just like that, every wall he had up comes crumbling down in an instant._

_“Thought we’d have more time, Cas,” he whispers. “I’m - I’m sorry I fucked this up. It’s been you, man. It’s been you for me for a long time.”_

_“Dean - don’t,” Castiel rasps, his voice lower than he’s ever heard it. Cas holds him at arms length to look into his eyes again. Dean can see his sky blue eyes still swimming with tears.“Please don’t do this. Not now. There’s another way - we always find another way -”_ _  
_

_“I’m sorry, Cas. Take care of Sam, okay?”_

_He gives him one final slap on the back to push down all the tears that’re about to slip out of him, as unbidden as the way his hand slides down Castiel’s back in the only intimate caress they’ll ever have, and he turns back to Michael._

_“Yes.”_

_“No!” Castiel shouts behind him, breaking his heart into a million pieces with one syllable, but it’s already too late._

_He has to close his eyes as light spills into the room, then pours into him like an empty cup._

He shakes his head to clear it of the memory.

Again.

He’d been thinking about it a lot. How his hand felt running down Cas's back. How Cas told him he loved him. It’s not like he didn’t already know - he’s pretty sure everybody knows - but for the first time, he’d told him in his own shitty way that he felt the same way. And then he’d literally turned his back on him to save Sam and Jack.

Not that he regrets that. Sam’ll always come first, no matter how fucked up that might be. But he knows he hurt Cas, maybe more than he’s ever hurt him before, just by saying yes. 

And now that he knows Sam and Jack are safe after he killed Lucifer (or as safe as they’ll ever be living the life they live) all he can think about is how much it fucking hurt to hurt Cas.

And what Cas said.

_We still have a bond. Reach for me and I will be there. Anytime._

So he’d been praying. He’d been longing. He’d been doing everything he could think of doing, but still nothing. **When he said anytime, did he mean anytime?** Because he can’t feel Cas at all, and he has no freakin’ clue if Cas can feel him, but for whatever reason, he doesn’t think he can.

And he doesn’t get why. He closes his eyes, focusing entirely on what Cas had said at the time. He can still see it so clearly. Cas had been whispering, like he didn’t want Michael to know what he was saying. His eyes had been boring into his, begging him to hear the unspoken meaning in his words. And his hand - his hand had been on his shoulder. He was so hopelessly in love with the stupid angel that just feeling his hand on his shoulder had sent a tingle rolling through him. Not even a tingle on his skin, but inside of him. If he was more poetic, he’d even say his touch had resonated with his soul.

And that’s how he’d figured it out.

 _Reach for me_ , Castiel said. Not pray for me. _Reach for me_.

All he had to do was place his hand on top of where the handprint Castiel had left behind so many years ago used to be, and think of Cas, and it was like he was torn from his own mind and placed somewhere else. The first time it had been that valley. He was all alone, but he was keeping an eye out for Cas. He’d been walking in circles for what felt like ages, but he knew he’d come. But almost as soon as he saw him - badass angel flying down to him like his very own Superman with wings - he lost it. He couldn’t hold the connection anymore, and he was back in Michael’s head.

That had been three weeks ago, and he’d managed to connect with him only one other time so far where the same thing happened again. He doesn’t know why he only gets to see Cas some of the times. A lot of the time he’s off in his head doing weird shit - floating in the clouds, rolling down grass hills, shooting between the stars - but Cas is hardly ever there. And the two times he _was_ there, he could barely get a look at him before he was dragged back to reality.

Having him there but just beyond his reach is almost worse than not seeing him at all.

But that doesn’t mean he’s gonna stop trying. He’s lost count of how many times he’s done this now, but still, he does it again. He places his hand on his shoulder and closes his eyes, thinking about blue eyes as deep as the ocean...

* * *

 

“Cas?” Sam asks quietly.

Castiel comes back to himself with a start.

“My apologies, Sam. I was lost in thought.”

“Yeah,” Sam says sadly. “Listen Cas, I’m worried about you, man.”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

“I know it’s hard not to know where he is and what he’s doing, but I don’t know if you should keep trying when it’s clearly taking a toll on you, you know? It’s not healthy, Cas.”

Castiel finally turns in his chair enough to look up at him. “Would you turn away from the chance to see that he’s okay?”

Sam’s eyes dart away as a lock of dark hair falls into his face. “Dean said yes to Michael knowing this could happen. We're doing everything we can to get him back, but we can't do it without you. You know he'd be pissed if he knew you were doing something stupid," he says with a quirk of his lips, reminding Castiel of Dean saying those exact words to him. "And he'd want me to make sure you're okay, too. We have to take care of each other, man."

“I appreciate your concern Sam, but I’m not giving up on this,” Castiel replies, turning away again. He feels what remains of his grace begin to stir inside of him. “In fact, I’m going to go try again.”

“Cas -”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

Back in Dean’s room, in his bed, surrounded by the comforting scent of the man he loves, he closes his eyes and lets his grace reach out for Dean.

* * *

 

 **Dean dreamt he was a diver with a life supply of air.** He didn’t have a tank; he didn’t need one in his dream. He was still in his flannel, which was fanned out behind him in the water as he swam towards the bright colors shining at him from below. He could somehow register the **waves crashing above him, but it didn’t bother him**. He felt like he could happily **log a hundred hours in this reef**.

He was happy, and he felt free as the water cascaded along his body. He found himself surrounded by things he’d only ever seen on television or books. Curious, he reached out to touch it, and he **cut his hand on coral with a deep breath and a prayer**.

“Goddammit,” he cursed, sucking his bleeding finger into his mouth.

Hurting himself somehow **reminds him he’s not free** , and almost as soon as he has the thought, his gaze is drawn above him towards his escape. 

And that’s when he sees him.

“Cas,” he sighs happily, and for once, he doesn’t disappear.

But **he saw** Cas, **and he knew he couldn’t breathe**.

He’s under water. _Of course_ he can’t breathe under water! He holds his breath and starts kicking towards the surface as fast as he can. His finger is still streaming blood behind him - it’s flowing so much faster than it should for a small cut - but he ignores it because he needs to get to Cas; get to air.

**This mortality, it seethes. Reminds him he’s not free.**

“Dean!” Castiel calls desperately. Dean’s heart clenches painfully at the sound; he always manages to channel so much feeling into just his name.

He knows he shouldn’t be able to hear him under the water, hell, he shouldn’t be able to see him at all with so much water between them, but Cas is as clear as anything. Those gorgeous black wings are fanned out behind his back and his hand is now reaching for him under water since he’s fallen to his knees.

“Dean, stay with me. I can help you.”

 **_When you said anytime did you mean anytime?_ ** Dean thinks hysterically as black begins to flood his vision. **_If I bleed, will you carry me? Will you_ ** **ferry** **_me?_ ** He’d laugh at his own joke if he could breathe.

“I did. I will. I will carry you back in my wings, Dean,” Castiel promises him. “Don’t give up.”

He’s almost there. He can almost reach him. He can see hope light up Castiel’s already bright blue eyes, and his own lips curve into a smile -

**Then he falls like a shell to the bottom of the sea.**

“No! DEAN!”

 **_You set me right,_** _Cas_ , is the last thing he says in his head.

Then he wakes up from his dream where salty water is still fresh on his face.

No - tears.

Shame on him.

He can’t keep doing this.

He doesn’t want to.

* * *

Castiel turns over and buries his face in Dean’s pillow.

He failed. Again.

He was so close. Close enough to see the panic in Dean’s eyes as his lungs were getting ready to burst, and then he sank like a stone. Castiel had flung himself into the water, but as soon as he broke the surface, he was back on Dean’s bed.

_When you said anytime did you mean anytime?_

Castiel squeezes his eyes closed tighter, Dean’s thoughts circling in his head.

**_You set me right_.**

Is that Dean asking him to kill him again, or telling him he feels better when he sees him? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything but pain. How could anything hurt so badly?

Then he gasps aloud as he’s pulled towards Dean once more.

They’re in the bunker.

It’s full of people.

Dead people who are now alive and well.

There’s Bobby, talking to Jack with Jo and Ellen. Jo’s head is thrown back with laughter over something Jack said without meaning to be funny, based on the confused tilt of his head. Sam’s in the corner, leaning against the wall next to Eileen who’s looking down at the ground and smiling shyly. John and Mary Winchester are here. Mary’s leaning back against John’s chest while John’s arms encircle her waist. Crowley and Mick Davies are talking animatedly in front of the telescope.

With a start, he sees himself - wings and all - leaning against the map table beside Dean. He has one wing curled protectively around Dean’s shoulder, and Dean’s fingers brush the tips lovingly where his hand rests at his hip.

Dean looks over at him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on his face, and he sees the other him smile back just as big. Has he ever smiled like that before? He looks so pure, so happy, with his nose crinkled up and his gums showing above his teeth.

Then Dean lifts his glass half filled with amber liquid, and Castiel watches while the other Castiel clinks their glasses together.

“We did it, Cas,” Dean smiles.

“ _You_ did it, Dean. You defeated Michael, and you found your way back to us.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you and Sammy, man. **You set me right.** _We_ did it together.”

They both take a drink from their glasses before Dean looks at the other Castiel in a suggestive way that he’s seen plenty of times, just never aimed in his direction before now. Then Castiel’s jaw drops as he sees Dean lean over and press his lips against the other Castiel’s in a chaste kiss that drips with familiarity and intimacy. As if they’ve done that a million times already.

“Love you, angel,” Dean says.

“I love you too, Dean. I will always love you,” the other Castiel answers.

And as Castiel’s heart fills faster than he knew was possible, everything around him begins to slip away, eclipsed by a bright light that he’s all too familiar with…

“No,” Castiel gasps. “No! DEAN, NO!” he shouts, louder than he’s ever shouted before.

Then he’s back, his throat hoarse from his shouting. Before he can jump out of the bed and run to Sam’s room, Sam barges through the closed door with panic all over his face.

“We have to do something _now_ ,” Castiel says through clenched teeth. “Dean’s almost gone. He’s - he’s creating his Heaven.”

* * *

**He dreamt he was a hero and all his parts were sound.**

Dean was happy. He was so unbelievably happy. Michael was dead. Lucifer was dead. Sam was happy, Jack was happy, everybody he loved was alive and well. He was with Cas, and Cas loved him back. He’d never felt so whole, so invincible.

**No one’s gonna bother him deep inside this cloud.**

But then another Cas - the _real_ Cas - he set him right.

He heard him yell, “DEAN, NO!” and he was pulled back to himself.

 **Then he woke up from this dream** , and he realized he was about to go into the light where everything was easy and good.

He almost gave up.

**_Shame on me._ **

Time to fight.

For Sam, for Jack, for Cas, and for himself.  



End file.
